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Medical Attention	By : Insanity Category: +M through R > Resident Evil Views: 4021 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I neither own Resident Evil, nor make any money from writing porn about it.

Chapter List
- 1-Medical Attention
- 1
Original prompt: "Wesker/Rebecca in the Spencer Mansion. Rebecca checks Captain Wesker for injuries then he checks everything else she has. Bonus points for sex while both are partially dressed."
Medical Attention
There, on the edge of hearing, the unmistakable creak of floorboards beneath a heavy tread. Rebecca jumped, almost dropping a bottle of UMB-3 in the process. A zombie, or something even worse? Her imagination played a slideshow of the past 48 hours' horrors, hellish images flickering across her mind's eye. She prayed it wasn't a Crimson Head, remembering the beast that had chased her and Chris through the mansion earlier, before succumbing at last to a face full of lead. She had seen all too well that doors offered no protection from some creatures.
Wishing not for the first time that she and Billy hadn't dropped their heavy weaponry during their escape, she raised her handgun and readied herself.
What stumbled through the door though was not some undead horror. It was Captain Wesker. Although he was visibly injured his usual self-assured demeanor was in no danger of slipping.
“Officer Chambers…you’re alive.” His expression was perfectly neutral; it seemed a mere statement of fact.
Rebecca visibly relaxed, lowering her gun as she exhaled.
“Captain, am I glad to see you. The rest of my team…” – here, she choked back emotion –“but I found Chris, we’re working together now. I’m checking out these chemicals while he explores, think they might be some use to us…”
A slight narrowing of the mouth was Wesker’s only reaction to the mention of Chris. Rebecca didn’t notice the momentary tension, caught up in the joy of finding another survivor. A survivor who despite his blasé manner (in the face of the zombie onslaught, no less) was visibly bleeding from several wounds.
“But sir, you’re injured! Would you like me to treat your wounds?” Rebecca was already rummaging with her medical supplies.
Wesker hated showing weakness at the best of times, and to do so in the presence of his eighteen-year-old subordinate was particularly distasteful. Yet the wound on his thigh stung even as he shifted his stance (the B.O.Ws were more powerful than anticipated, he would admit that), and, well…it was surely the last chance he’d have to feel the touch of her soft hands on his body, something he had entertained more than a few private thoughts of in the dark hours before sleep.
“Thank you, Rebecca”. The shift to informal language was quite conscious on his part: opening new possibilities, inferring a shift away from straightforward professionalism. How far could he push her? He wondered just how deep her desire to please ran.
For want of somewhere better, Wesker sat on one of the wooden stools that served for seating at the lab benches. Even sitting he towered over the petite medic, who was busying herself with dressings and disinfectants on the bench beside him. He admired the curve of her buttocks, the way she bloomed out from the hips. His gaze raked up to the nape of her neck, vulnerable and exposed under her short hair. His hands longed to encircle it. Not to choke (at least not yet) but to dominate, to assert the possibility, to feel her pulse like a trapped bird beneath his fingers.
Bending down to let Rebecca clean a superficial graze on his temple, he drank in the sight of her breasts. Although they were small, even the bulk of her flak vest couldn’t wholly conceal the sensual curvature. That was one of the nice things about the sunglasses: no one could tell where he was looking, whether his eyes were scanning a crime scene or lingering on the delicious young woman who was now disinfecting a gash on his bicep. The sting made him grit his teeth involuntarily, but the pain was also on some level welcome. After all, if the virus worked (and indeed if it didn’t), who could tell whether he would feel anything so human again? Over the course of the hours since injecting the concoction he had found himself preoccupied by sensations, relishing the very experience of being human. Perhaps that was why the beast had got an attack in; perhaps he had even on some level let it do so, riding the pain, the scent of his own blood.
Rebecca pressed a sterile dressing onto his arm, her fingers gently smoothing the adhesive edges onto his skin. Her hands were warm, assured yet hesitant, as if she feared repercussions for touching her Captain.
“I think you’ll have to, um…could you take your pants down, please?”
Was that the trace of a blush, sweeping across her face? How he’d fantasized about her saying similar things, in an altogether filthier way. Her embarrassment was all the more erotic though, the implication that she knew how dirty she sounded, that she was thinking, even momentarily, of forbidden possibilities.
“Really, dear heart, so forward?” He couldn’t resist teasing her, a raised eyebrow causing her blush to colour yet further. Delicious.
But he loosened his belt with feigned obedience, easing combat trousers down muscled thighs. It would probably be best if she didn’t notice the slight erection that was now pressing against his black boxer-briefs.
Rebecca was finding it difficult to focus on her work. The Captain was an attractive man, despite his age, and she couldn’t help but allow her mind to wander as her gloved hands tended to his body. An unspoken suggestion of sexual tension hung in the air, brought to the fore by Wesker’s jesting comment. And now here she was, stood between his legs, hands at work on his naked thigh. She tried not to stare at the bulge mere inches above.
The thigh wound was superficial, the trousers having borne the brunt of it, but undoubtedly stung as she cleaned it. A hiss of pain, and a likely-involuntary grip on her shoulder confirmed it. She worked hastily to dress the wound, all the while conscious of her hands’ positions.
“Right, done – hopefully that’s better now!” She smiled as she stood up straight, but for some reason didn’t step back. It was this continuing proximity that gave Wesker the hint he wanted.
He leaned forward a little and brushed his lips to hers. Day-old stubble grazed her cheek, sweat and cologne filled her nostrils. She reciprocated, parting her lips slightly to welcome his tongue. His hands were on her shoulders again now, but more firmly, assuredly. With the gentlest of touches, he brought her closer to him, feeling the belts and buckles of her uniform press against his cock through the thin fabric of his underpants. One hand moved to her neck, gripping at short hair to force her head up into the kiss; the other clasped her arse, encouraging her to grind against him. Stopping for breath, his voice had a different quality to it: still clipped and calm, but cracking with an undertone of lust.
“I think there’s more you can do for me, perhaps, Officer?” His fingers worked to loosen the straps of her flak jacket, allowing his hands to move under her clothing, finding her breasts. He could feel Rebecca’s nipples grow hard through her sports bra, a slight moan escaping with her out-breath.
Her hands moved back to Wesker’s thighs, but without their earlier hesitancy. Feeling hair and lean muscle, she ran her palms over them, moving up towards his cock. She pulled impatiently at the waist of his boxers, gripped him passionately. Rebecca ached for him, ached for hours of sex, to have her whole body beholden to his passion.
But there was no time – Chris would wonder where she was, and all around was danger. She knew her hopes of getting out of here were slim, even without taking time out to fuck her boss. Perhaps it was the very danger that fed their lust, an urgent desire to assert how very much alive they were. Whatever pleasure they would share would be quick, and rough, and desperately satisfying.
“I want you” she murmured, stepping back and unfastening her belt. She slid the green fabric of her uniform down, exposing herself. With an uncharacteristic look of assertiveness, she held his gaze as she leaned over the lab bench, her pert buttocks exquisite as she spread her thighs.
Wesker slid easily into her, feeling her body grip him. She was tight, yes, as he had hoped, though sadly not a virgin. Perhaps that wasn’t so bad though – indeed the assertive, sexually confident Rebecca had a whole new range of charms. He thrust quickly into her, surprisingly close already. Wesker felt the sweat drip down his back inside his uniform, which was never designed for exertions of this nature. He groaned slightly as he pushed deeper into her, relishing the sensation, wondering whether sex would ever feel like this again after his transformation. Rebecca gripped him harder, little moans escaping her mouth in a delicious rhythm. Increasing his pace yet further, he gripped the back of her flak jacket and reached a shuddering, vocal orgasm, feeling his fluids mingle with hers. Judging by Rebecca’s moans she, too, had reached her peak, sent over the edge by the urgency of his thrusting.
He stayed inside her only for a moment, the reality of the situation returning again as the afterglow faded. They quickly adjusted their clothing, Rebecca brushing the dust from the countertop off her front.
“Well, I best get back to the chemistry experiments…Chris is gonna wonder where I am. And, ah, Capt- Albert…thanks.”
She wasn’t sure why she thanked him, nor how the implication that a quick fuck on the table had brought them mutually to first-name terms would go down. Wesker adjusted his shades, looking at her with amusement, tinged with disapproval at her insubordination. The perfect professionalism had returned.
“Just doing my bit for morale, Officer Chambers. Oh, and you might want to mix that, with that, then add this.” Here, he gestured towards some half-mixed jars of chemical, reeling off the formula with ease. His team – his other team – had invented the V-Jolt, after all. Thoughts of his real job, his real objective reminded him that time was short. He made his excuses: “I need to get back to looking for clues, you best do the same.”
She thanked him again as Wesker walked out of the room, with a silent nod instead of a goodbye. He didn’t feel guilt, taking his pleasure and leaving the girl to her fate: besides, he’d given her a little hint that might save her skin. For a time, at any rate.
Rebecca turned her attention to the jars of chemicals, conscious of the moistness between her legs as the Captain’s seed dripped into her panties. It was a struggle to pay attention to her work with this constant reminder of what had just transpired, so she mixed the chemicals slowly, concentrating carefully on the instructions that he had given her. It was only hours later, catching her breath in a safe room after another battle with the undead, that she realized Wesker had told her the solution to the V-Jolt mystery without her ever mentioning that that was her objective. How had he known?
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Medical Attention